Little’s and Homegrown

Some of my favorite dining experiences are super casual. I tend to get more excited to hear about a hot wing shack on Marietta Street with a line of people out front, than I do that Ford Fry will be consulting on the new bar/restaurant in the Four Seasons.

It’s not my side of town, otherwise I would have no excuse my lack of regular visitation to Little’s in Cabbagetown. It’s a great, quaint convenience store with a little bar for dining on burgers and hot dogs. Craft beer? Cigarettes? Fresh produce? Chili Dogs? Check, check, check, and check.

The burger is super satisfying. The beef is fresh and sized appropriately, easily inhaled in a few embarrassingly large bites, on a squishy Martin’s roll. The fries are dark and sort of crispy, sort of soft and tender in a way I really enjoy.

The Foodie Buddha’s selection with bacon and very nicely battered onion rings.

Splitting a chili dog is a solid choice as well. I take mine with a lot of mustard, and feel confident that if you put ketchup on a hot dog, we won’t be friends.

It’s always a good sign when the staff is grinding. Meat.

A similarly snug dining establishment I love is Homegrown. It gets super crowded there, but my two year old pal/son wakes up early so we can get there by 8AM. There is typically a line shortly after that point. He had chocolate chip pancakes. Well, I had them too, it’s too much for even my voracious little guy.

My selection was the hot chicken fried steak biscuit with pickles. This sandwich is right. The orange really ties the room together too.

Quick story – mid breakfast a group of eight to ten bad looking mofos dressed in black with guns and what appeared to be police badges pinned to their shirts (the shirts proclaimed ‘Security’) came walking through the restaurant to the large table in the back. A few of them had black bullet proof vests on too (), and the baddest, biggest dude in the bunch was pulling up the rear. As he walked by I noticed the nunchucks he had tucked into the back of his vest against his neck. The whole restaurant certainly noticed too, and in a shared moment of disbelief one other dude across the way caught eyes with me and mouthed the words, “nunchucks????” It was a hilarious moment. Atlanta can be fun sometimes.